


Road Trip, Motherfuckers!

by veryconfidentsandwichshapedfreedom



Category: Divergent Series - Veronica Roth
Genre: Alternate Universe - Crack, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Comedy, Excessive Swearing, Explicit Language, Gen, Out of Character, POV Drew, Pet Names, Please never read this I have no idea why I'm keeping it up because I hate every word, Prescription Drug Abuse, Pretty much abandoned, Road Trips, Short & Sweet, Short Chapters, Slow To Update, Third Wheels
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-25
Updated: 2016-09-08
Packaged: 2018-08-11 02:00:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7871236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veryconfidentsandwichshapedfreedom/pseuds/veryconfidentsandwichshapedfreedom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An eighteen-year-old Molly drags Peter and Drew out on a road trip to Vegas against their will.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"Okay, so, I got this great idea last night; you're going to love it!"

Molly threw a pile of papers down on the coffee table, dark eyes wide and blazing. Drew, who had been sitting crosslegged on the floor and half-asleep, was stunned at her sudden energy. The last few weeks had been like this; she'd finally managed to get a prescription for Xanax to control her "raging depression" (something told Drew she had faked symptoms in order to sell off the medication but had gotten hooked herself), and now she was jumping off the walls and making spontaneous plans.

Drew balled up a fist, shaking his head. "Molly, it is three in the morning, and you just burst into my apartment with some crazy idea. You're lucky I'm addicted to Reddit; I mean, Peter would have killed you if you woke him up over this shit."

"Shut up, come on, let me explain!" she squealed, narrowly avoiding tripping over the leg of the table as she leaned down to grab the first sheet of paper. As she lifted it, Drew could see that there was some sort of map printed in dark gray and red ink on the opposite side. She studied it for no longer than three seconds before balling it up and chucking it directly at Drew's eye.

"Yeah, take that, you cunt!"

Drew remembered when he and Molly had gotten into a brutal snowball fight as children, and how she'd deliberately put a rock in one and given him a black eye. That was a different Molly than the lighthearted (yet equally sadistic) one he was dealing with now. 

"Jesus..." Drew grumbled, just quiet enough that Molly wouldn't hear or react. He reached into his lap and took out the abused sheet of printer paper. As he uncrumpled it, he saw that it was a map of the continental United States with a crudely drawn red line, probably done in marker, between Chicago and the base of Nevada.

As he opened his mouth to speak, Molly cut him off.

"Pack your shit, Drew, I'll be back in three hours. We're going to Vegas!" she shrieked, grabbing the rest of the papers. She sprinted toward the door with a grin on her face. It hit the wall with a slam as she opened it and shut behind her with another slam as she disappeared.

Drew heaved himself to his feet. "Molly, I have to work..."

As Peter's angry footsteps approached, Drew realized there was nothing he could do but comply with his friend's demand. He hadn't seen a drugged Molly angry, and it was not on his bucket list.

"What the fuck?" Peter asked, peeking his head around the corner. Drew rubbed his fingers in tight circles on his temples for a moment before replying.

"Apparently, we're going to Vegas at six. In the morning."

Peter sneered. "Do you actually think that's a great idea, or are you scared of what she'll do to you if you say no?"

"The fuck do you think, asshole?"

"That you're a pussy."

"I love you too."

They both broke out into panicked laughter, as if they could read each others' minds.


	2. Chapter 2

"I hope she's not actually serious about this," Peter remarked as he paused near the door and piled a final suitcase onto the little stack of luggage they had amassed, including their cell phones, two large backpacks, and an empty black duffel bag.

Drew rolled his eyes. "She's serious, I know she is. She printed maps and everything." He froze for a second, confused. "Hey, Petey?"

"Yeah?"

"What's this duffel bag for?" he asked, reaching down and bringing it up by the strap.

Peter smirked. "In case we have some business to attend to." His green eyes were bright with pure passion.

"Damn, I love the way you think. Nothing like the smell of blood to highlight a good trip." Drew threw the bag back down. "You bring condoms?"

Groaning loudly, Peter picked up his watch off the table, wrapped it around his wrist, and started to fumble with the buckle. "What for?"

"I love you too much to call you an idiot, but we're standing here at the crack of dawn, our best friend since childhood is about to drag us almost two thousand miles with only a three hour notice, we're probably going to kill someone..." Drew paused. "And you want to know what the condoms are for?"

Watch finally secured, Peter looked up at Drew with one of his elusive smiles. Before either of them could say anything, the door swung open again.

"You all packed and ready?" Molly chirped, two-cent grin on her face like she was running a double shift at a restaurant. "Car is just waiting for you two." She darted the three steps over to Drew and wrapped her arms around him. "We're gonna have so much fun!"

Drew glanced at Peter, trying his best to beg for help with only his countenance. Was that a look of jealousy on Peter's face? Molly let go, and Drew reeled back, panting.

"Road trip, motherfuckers!" Molly shouted, grabbing the backpacks off the ground and sprinting full-speed down the hallway.

Saying nothing, Peter trailed after her at a more reserved pace. Drew knew that Peter was uncomfortable with the dominant role Molly had been taking. For their whole lives, basically, he had decided where they went, what they did, and how they did it. Drew wasn't sure that, with how much he idolized his boyfriend, that he was too happy with him being replaced. But he was the omega in their metaphorical wolf pack, and he would say nothing and carry on as if not a thing had changed.

Carrying the suitcase in his hand, phones in his pocket, and duffel bag over his shoulder, Drew still had a hand free to lock the apartment door. As he came out of the main hall two floors down, he spotted Molly's run-down cream Volvo parked on the narrow strip of grass between the road and the apartment building. He exchanged a glance with Peter, who was leaned near Molly against the edge of the open trunk, mouth open in a yawn.

Molly had already thrown their bags into the trunk, on top of what Drew assumed were hers, and was now beckoning him over.

"Drew!" she shouted. A string of cars drove by loud enough that Drew could barely make out what she was saying.

Drew started to jog, coming to a halt at the open trunk. He tossed in his things, gazed at them wistfully, and then pushed it shut.

He looked back up at Molly. "I guess I'm ready." Molly nodded enthusiastically and threw herself into the driver's seat. Peter shook his head and gently went shotgun.

Left with no other choice, Drew piled himself into the back.

"Why do you get to sit next to him?" Drew pouted, buckling into the middle seat. He gave Molly an indignant glare.

"Because, Drew, he's going to be my navigator!" Molly leaned over and elbowed Peter in the ribs. "Isn't that right?"

Peter grunted. "Fuck you."

Molly dug into her pocket and tossed another crumpled ball of paper toward Peter as she placed her other hand on the shift. "Map."

Peter unfurled it with a quizzical expression. "Molly, this is a ketchup ad."

"It was a map when I put it there, I swear! Fuck!" she yelled, throwing her head against the steering wheel. "Whatever," she said, in a sudden change of mood. "We'll just use Drew's phone. I'll go get it."

As soon as Molly was out of the car, Peter let out a hushed growl.

"I'm definitely stealing her next prescription. You know, Drew, I'd like to beat the shit out of her, but she's done too much for us. We've had her here since the beginning, and she's on drugs anywa—"

The door flew open so hard that Drew feared it was going to rip off. As much as he agreed with Peter's sentiment, he wasn't sure he could handle this to Las Vegas and back.


	3. Chapter 3

Getting on the road had taken more effort and time than Drew thought it would. Molly had turned the ignition and gotten a loud sigh of frustration from the engine at first. He could have noticed Peter's relief all the way from Milwaukee.

But after three more tries, the car started, and it was a game of 'hurry up and wait'. The convenient and unusual lack of traffic as they were leaving had not lasted long. Less than five minutes into their journey, they started moving about two feet a minute in one of the worst traffic jams Drew had ever been exposed to, let alone experienced.

"I can't tell if the sky is gray with rain or crushed dreams," Peter remarked, tapping his fingers rhythmically on the dashboard.

Drew chuckled, low and quiet. "The latter." Outside, someone blared their horn.

Exuberance filled Molly's voice. "It's almost open. I think there's an accident up here. Maybe we'll see a dead guy!"

Peter broke into a whispering chant, fingers crossed. "Please be dead, please be dead..."

Something hard and painful had formed between Drew's eyes. Drew remembered that he hadn't slept all night; he'd been awoken by Molly just as he was falling asleep. Perhaps the traffic jam was a blessing; he'd have plenty of time to rest without fear of being awakened.

Well, he would, if he were in a car with normal people. Neither Molly nor Peter really counted as normal.

Now that he was relaxed in an unexpectedly comfortable seat, he was starting to feel himself dozing off. Maybe he'd wake up and have slept through the entire trip. The thought birthed a smile.

"And we're right out! That's how it's done, bitches!"

Drew was shocked back awake by the sound of Molly shouting victoriously. How long had it been? He looked around. They were moving at a much nicer pace across an overpass, and a lot of the cars around them had dispersed, but that meant that he could have been asleep anywhere from ten minutes to eight hours.

The clock in the front read 7:32. When he'd last checked the time, it had been 7:16. Wonderous.

"Awake back there? You should have seen it, Drew. They had the guy out on a stretcher. He was bleeding everywhere," Peter enthused. "The car was just fucking totaled."

Drew shook his head, staring down at his fingers in an exhaustion-induced daze. "Shame."

Peter looked back at Drew and rolled his eyes. "We'll let you sleep. Hey, Molly?"

Flashing an appreciative smile, Drew closed his eyelids and sank down into the seat. The gentle vibrating of the car felt pleasant on his back. He could hear the distinctive high-pitched notes of Peter's voice, but was no longer alert enough to comprehend anything he said. Within the next minute, Drew had fallen back asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Drew jolted awake as his entire body felt a terrible bite of cold. It shook him to the bone, making his toes curl and forcing out a scream. He was lying on something hard, and some chunks of ice were stuck to his face. The sound of laughter filled his ears.

He looked up to see Peter and Molly, the former holding a large plastic bag. They were outside, and Drew saw that he was leaned atop the trunk of the car, which was parked next to a gas station in the middle of nowhere. A car rushed down the road about a hundred yards in the distance.

"You assholes," Drew snapped as he lifted himself into a seated position on the trunk. Peter was still snickering.

"Sorry, we just couldn't resist. You just looked so peaceful there that we had to stop and buy a bag of ice. It was Molly's idea."

"Was not!" Molly screeched indignantly, pouncing onto Peter's back. The bag floated downward, free of his hand. Drew sighed and began to wring out the fabric of his t-shirt, soaked to a dark color with frigid water.

Peter turned wildly in circles, throwing his fists around and making animalistic growling noises as he tried to throw Molly off. She clung her arms around his shoulders tightly, refusing to budge no matter how hard he swung her. If they weren't smiling, Drew still wouldn't have intervened. They did take all the trouble of hauling him out of the car in order to wake him up in the most horrible way possible, after all.

As Peter finally emerged victorious and sent Molly on a one-way trip to the pavement, Drew felt a little pang of jealousy in his chest. They looked so happy playing with each other. They'd pranked him together. He almost felt as if Molly were doing the things with Peter that he should be doing. Peter was  _his_ boyfriend, after all, not hers, and maybe he felt a little underappreciated.

But then he remembered how hyper and obnoxious Molly was, that she was the one dragging them on this stupid trip, and that Peter had badmouthed her behind her back, and he felt a little bit better. Well, her being in a humiliating position on the ground didn't hurt, either.

Drew was watching Molly scoop herself off the cement when he heard an unfamiliar voice yelling from nearby.

"The hell you kids doing? Get out!"

A portly bald man, dressed in a striped green-and-white vest, probably the uniform for the convenience store, was staring at them from the dumpster beside the building. He was carrying a mop as if it were a wizard's staff, and, most of all, he did not look friendly.

Peter looked as if someone just shot his dog. 

"Shit! Get in the car!" he shouted, grabbing Drew by the wrist and dragging him headfirst into the open back door. Drew squeaked and pushed himself upward on the soft polyester seat just as he heard the door slam. Before he could register what had just happened, he felt the weight of Peter as he leapt into the passenger's seat. When Drew lifted his head and looked out the right window, he saw the employee sprinting at them, top-speed, mop raised as if he planned to use it as a weapon.

Just as Drew thought the undiluted rage of a fifty-something Indian man without a college degree was upon them, he heard Molly slam the door shut and rip the car into gear. Tires squealed, and the car lurched backward. With one turn and a mighty roar, they were moving at least twenty miles an hour across the parking lot.

Peter stuck his head out the open window, shit-eating grin plastered on his face. "Have a nice day!" He then proceeded to break into a completely uninhibited laugh.

The car sped back onto the abused little road, and all was silent except for the revving engine until the gas station was far, far out of sight.

"That was great!" Molly exclaimed. "See, what were you two all upset about this morning?"

Drew snorted. "Thrilling as that was, we're..."

He snuck a peek at the clock, which read 10:24. If they had been moving at a decent rate since getting out of Chicago traffic, and subtracting time where they were stopped at the gas station, they'd gone roughly about a hundred and twenty miles.

"We're a hundred and twenty miles away from home, I'm soaking wet and exhausted, and I'm probably going to get fired because I never showed up for work!"

Molly snickered, but kept her gaze focused on the road. "Lighten up, pussy."

"You know, he's kind of right, Molly. You came up with this idea, what, seven hours ago? I'm only slightly enjoying this because I can fuck with him while he's asleep. But you're hyper as shit, and it's annoying," Peter explained. He opened the glovebox and pulled out some kind of magazine. "Wait, why do you have a Playboy in here?"

"I thought of this plan eight hours ago, to be exact, and I put that in right before telling you losers about my brilliant trip idea!" she shrieked, steering the car violently into the other lane.

Drew let out a scream, feeling his whole body shaking. The Playboy flew from Peter's hand and out the open window.

"What the fuck!" Drew shouted, regaining his composure as Molly drifted the car gently back to its original position.

"Hey, gotta keep you on your toes!" she purred, as if proud that she'd scared the living shit out of everyone else in the car. "There was nobody coming anyway."

Drew could just see Peter mash an open palm into his forehead. 

"Molly, you are fucking insane."


	5. Chapter 5

Drew had now unsuccessfully spent an hour trying to get a little more sleep, but between Molly's erratic driving and Peter's incessant complaints about it, he couldn't seem to get himself to fade. If their last pitstop had taught him anything, it was that he most likely wasn't leaving this trip intact.

"Peter, look in the glove box again. I got something for us all," Molly quipped, breaking a five minute stretch of silence that had nearly lulled a restless Drew to peace.

He heard Peter's fingers tap against the handle. "If this is anything like the surprises we've gotten from you so far, then I'm jumping the fuck out and becoming roadkill."

He seemed to be half-kidding, as if he had already forgiven her for everything she'd done. Drew hoped he was wrong about that. Peter was, obviously, his closest thing to an ally (excluding the ice incident).

Curious to see what there was, Drew peeked forward. Peter had opened the glovebox and now had a small red bag in his hand. After studying it carefully, he glared at Molly with an air of distrust before reaching in and removing the item inside. Drew watched his eyes light up. "Fake IDs? Where'd you get these?"

"I haaave a guyyy," Molly replied in a singsong voice.

If Molly annoyed him, Drew decided, he would be very thankful to have a fake ID. Peter sighed, chucking one of the cards back at Drew, who reached up and caught it. "A guy, hmm?"

Drew scanned over the ID, looking for any signs of it being blatantly fake. He couldn't find anything at first glance. It said that he was twenty-one, that his name was Robinson Naquin, and it used a cropped picture from their last high school yearbook. Everything checked out, and there were no marks or pictures that dismissed it as a copy. The only thing that could foil him were any potential security features, and who checks those in a dark and crowded bar?

"Get your mind out of the gutter, Peter. It's strictly business!"

Visibly entertained by the bickering, Peter snorted as he prepared a retort. Drew approved. He could tell that Peter was still a bit wary of Molly, possibly even more so than Drew, since Drew himself was, for the most part, angry rather than cautious. Now he could hear Peter's voice again. "Dude should join the army, because I think he dodged a bullet."

Drew didn't try to hide his snickering. Peter grinned smugly, cruel green eyes glimmering with pride.

"Rude," Molly finally spoke, clutching the steering wheel haphazardly, like she was threatening to put them all upside down in a ditch. She probably would, intentionally or otherwise.

Drew took a glance out the window, hoping to see anything other than cornfields and the occasional tree. Since it was something he wanted, it didn't happen.

"Hey, does it feel like we've been in the middle of nowhere forever?"

He didn't get a reply. Peter coughed.


End file.
